


Where The Lights Burn Low

by Nubriema



Series: Pair of Forgivers [1]
Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Pining, Universe Alteration, also not-so latent overuse of the word 'balustrade', because obviously, complete with a Hollywood-worthy slow-dance scene and a cheesy ending, don't say i didn't warn ya, latent overuse of the word 'fuck'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 02:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nubriema/pseuds/Nubriema
Summary: Taichi Yagami turned thirty just a few weeks ago, and he has never looked better.This is a fact, one which Mimi finds incredibly distressing, and spending the day in his remote and not-so-remote vicinity has made that abundantly clear. Being reminded of this very fact by having him stand right in front of her now in all his glory is a cruel twist of fate.[Set post-02, pre-Epilogue, and disregarding both the Epilogue and tri., but with some nods in their direction.]





	Where The Lights Burn Low

 

 

 

The sweet summer air feels fresh against her overheated skin, and for the first time today, Mimi breathes a sigh of relief.

The glass doors are ajar, curtains billowing softly in the breeze, and the noise from inside the building drifts muffled into the night. Out here, on the terrace, there's only peace. Thick, fragrant foliage all around and below her in the gardens, dotted by paper lanterns and torches. The stars above and a bright, glowing moon decorating an inky sky. Crickets chirping, tucked away into the greenery.

The buzz in her mind quiets down a little with every intake of oxygen. Tension seeps out of her shoulders as if lifted into the dotted darkness. The sensation is akin to sinking into a tub full of cool, clear water after being exposed to the sun for too long.

It feels like Mimi's whole body finally decompresses out here, after being strung too high, wound too tight, for longer than is healthy.

"What a night..." she murmurs.

She takes a sip from the tumbler she's holding, then presses it against her cheek to cool off some more.

Vines touch her leg, and a pink and green shape hovers low beside her.

"I don't understand why you're doing this."

Palmon knows. (How could she not? She's Mimi's partner, of course she does.)

Palmon knows that she has only had two glasses of champagne and the tiniest sip of sake that night, all to keep up appearances. She's a bit tipsy at best, but she's not nearly tipsy enough to be acting the way she has for the past three hours. And the four hours before that.

Bubbly, cheerful, a bit over the top, her usual exuberant self but more intense, playing the not-perfect-but-still-awesome maid of honor, doing everything in her power to make this festivity amazing for Sora and Yamato.

It's all an act. The amount of alcohol needed for her to feel authentically joyous right now would kill her liver, and apart from that, Mimi has outgrown the seemingly obligatory teenage enthusiasm for drinking years ago. She's enough of an actress to maybe fool everyone else if she must, maybe even herself a little, but she can't fool her Digimon.

"I have to," Mimi simply says before she crouches down.

Palmon is wearing a cute pink dress that is similar in design to her own pine green one, looking lovely, and Mimi smiles at her companion and smooths the fabric a little.

"I can't bear to see you hurting, Mimi."

Those mossy eyes are full of sympathy.

"It's alright, Palmon." She tries to give her partner a genuine, happy grin, but she can tell it comes out all bitter and twisted. "I've almost made it, it's over soon."

Only a bit longer, and she can be done with this, go to bed, go home, go back to her everyday life and try to forget about _him_ again. (She'll miserably fail, of course, but it's the effort that counts.) About _him_ , and the fact that she's in far too many photographs with him, smiling like there's nothing wrong at all.

Sora and Yamato's wedding is treated like another royal event of the century, what with the media blowing up the "Odaiba DigiDestined", as they call them, to celebrity status as of late. The paparazzi have been long shooed away at this hour, thankfully, but the party is still riddled with dignitaries, politicians and various other VIPs.

Mimi knows she should be in there mingling, socializing to drive her career forward, but she can't bring herself to do so. She hates all of it tonight. She's exhausted, absolutely _exhausted_ , and she just wants a bit of downtime, some moment of calm to catch her breath.

The universe doesn't seem to grant her a break, though: there's movement at the edge of her vision, a dark blue shape, drawing nearer, and then that shape clears his throat.

Mimi scrambles to her feet and takes three steps in the opposite direction, turning her back. The hand that holds her glass is _shaking_.

Of course he has to come and find her. _Of course._

"Taichi-san," Palmon says, and Mimi wants to _run_.

The problem is, she can't. There's nowhere to go; the terrace is huge but it doesn't have another exit, and she'd have to pass _him_ to get back inside.

"Hi Palmon."

That soft, warm timbre makes her skin tingle.

Taichi Yagami — Leader of the Odaiba DigiDestined, not-quite-official Ambassador for the Digital World, best man to the groom, ex-boyfriend — sounds entirely too cheerful.

"Mimi."

 _Ah._ Not so cheerful anymore.

She makes an unspecified noise of acknowledgement and walks up to the balustrade; she needs something to hold on to.

"Am I interrupting?" His eyes are burning holes into her back, she can feel it.

"We just wanted to catch our breath," Palmon declares blithely. "It's a bit stifling in there with all those people in one space."

Palmon has saved her life so many times before that Mimi can't even count them, but this might be the most important one yet. She's so grateful for her partner's presence.

"Yeah, it's a little crowded." Taichi has the audacity to chuckle. "The air out here is nice."

 _You just polluted it_ , she thinks sullenly.

Silence falls over them. The uncomfortable kind.

Then there's a shuffle of feet and another clearing of throat, before fate eventually drops the guillotine on Mimi.

"Can I ask you a favour, Palmon?" How can he sound so innocent when he's anything but? "Could you please keep an eye on Agumon for a bit? He's making his way through the buffet like a champ, but I'm a little afraid he's gonna overstuff himself, and I'd like to talk to the maid of honor for a minute."

_That's the best you can do?_

It's the most ridiculous excuse he could possibly come up with, and Mimi very nearly laughs.

"Um..." Palmon sounds unsure and comes up to her again. "Mimi?"

"It's okay, Palmon. It's fine."

_It's not._

She forces a smile out for her partner, and Palmon nods, briefly hugs her leg and scurries off after Taichi thanks her.

And then they're alone.

It takes a moment, a second, a third, but then he slowly steps next to her to the railing. He's wise enough to stay about four feet away, though.

Mimi makes a point of not looking at him. From the corner of her eyes, she can see him shrug off his suit jacket and dangle it over one shoulder by his fingers, in that certain way that men do, in that certain way that should _not_ be so sexy.

"Beautiful night," he says.

She has to keep in a groan of frustration. The conversation hasn't even really started and it's already unbearable. Why he wants to have a conversation with her in the first place is beyond her. They're not exactly on speaking terms, after all.

A soft breeze picks up as he waits patiently for her to say something.

_Fuck._

_Her_ patience is already worn thin from the day; she doesn't have enough nerves left to sit this one out, so she decides to just get it over with.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm the groom's best man, I—"

"No, what are you doing _here_?" Mimi almost stomps for emphasis. "Shouldn't you be in there and, oh, I don't know, make sure Daisuke doesn't set himself on fire?"

Taichi chuckles. "I think Ken and Miyako can handle him just fine."

_Wonderful._

"Then how about making new acquaintances?"

He drapes his jacket over the balustrade. "Already did that."

She fixes her eyes on a blue lantern in the distance. "Talking about the Digital World to people who have no clue but a lot of money and power?"

"Did that as well."

"Picking up that duchess with the gorgeous hair or that prime minister's cute son with the spectacular jawline?"

She hears him inhale before he replies, and his voice sounds different this time. "Not interested."

Mimi knows she's being a tad bit cruel on both of them, but she thinks she can afford it after making it through the day without a hitch. He's dodging her initial question, but she's too tired to insist on his answer, so she just shrugs.

"Shouldn't _you_ be in there, too?" She feels more than sees him shove his hands into his pockets. "Lecturing someone on the benefits of goji berries and the criminally bad ecobalance of avocados?"

She snorts. "You'd be surprised, but I did, in fact, do that already."

"Great." Taichi's voice is so deceptively, artificially cheerful. "Found anyone yet who fancies becoming your boy toy?"

_Dumbass._

Her knuckles are stark white, and if she clenches any harder, maybe she will shatter that glass.

"I'm only pushing thirty, Yagami, I'm not old enough to even think about a boy toy." Her voice is calm, steady, but the effort it takes her to make it that way is monumental.

Mimi _hates_ him.

Except she doesn't, and that's exactly the problem at hand.

"Alright."

Silence hangs between them like fog for a minute.

Then two.

Then three.

Then—

"Mimi." There's a subtle question mark in the way he says her name.

"Mh."

She refuses, she absolutely refuses to make this any easier on him.

He huffs. "Come on, Mimi."

Something in her twinges at his tone, but she stays put. Rigid, eyes ahead, spine straight.

Taichi laughs, not quite humorous. Then his voice is silky, teasing. "You've been unable to keep your eyes off me all day, and now you won't even look at me?"

A flash of anger runs through her. _He_ 's the one that has been staring at her all day! Whenever she looked around and accidentally met his eyes, his gaze was already fixed on her. Of course he's still technically right, though, and it makes her furious. He doesn't have to point it out; their interactions these days are already strenuous as is.

She makes her voice as derisive as she possibly can. "Too much alcohol, Yagami? Seems you've been hallucinating."

"I'm completely sober."

The tumbler is snatched out of her hand without forewarning.

" _Hey!_ "

She whirls around to him, hand chasing her glass, but he dances two steps out of her reach, and—

Taichi Yagami turned thirty just a few weeks ago, and he has never looked better.

This is a fact, one which Mimi finds incredibly distressing, and spending the day in his remote and not-so-remote vicinity has made that abundantly clear. Being reminded of this very fact by having him stand right in front of her now in all his glory is a cruel twist of fate. (Obviously, the universe is bent on breaking her spirit today.)

She _hates_ him.

Of course. Of course he knows exactly how to get what he wants and make her look at him.

Her emotions are in turmoil, and she's not even completely sure which one is reflecting on her face in that moment. She guesses that it's trepidation, because that's the one she feels in her very bones.

Taichi's brown eyes are so intensely focused on her own, it hurts.

"There you are," he mumbles, and she doesn't even know why her cheeks decide to flush beet-red. (Oh, if only the ground would open up and swallow her whole... Or better yet, swallow _him_.)

Her arm is still outstretched for her glass, but Mimi doesn't dare move. He's holding it just out of her reach, like he's holding it hostage. His gaze finally settles on it, and he turns the tumbler this way and that, examining how the liquid sloshes a little.

"What's that?"

"Give it _back_ , Taichi," she snarls, not missing how his lip twitches when she finally says his name.

"What is it?"

"Vodka," she lies.

"You never liked vodka," he quips, unimpressed.

"Maybe I do now."

"Must be damn good vodka then."

"It is, that's why I want you to give it back."

She's going to kill him.

"I think I'll have a sip first."

Or maybe, he's going to kill her.

"No you _won't_ , that's expensive stuff," she hisses at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "This is a wedding, it's all free."

"Doesn't matter."

Mimi's chest is starting to constrict with panic.

Taichi cocks his head. "Why do you care so much?"

"Why are you such a pain in the ass?"

She can't have him taste that. She can't, because then he'll know. There's nothing but plain old water and too many ice cubes in that glass, but right now that's her lifeline, and she _cannot_ —

" _Don't!_ "

Her voice is way too shrill when he raises the glass to his lips and sips on it. Once. Twice. She can pinpoint the exact moment the taste really registers on his tongue, because his eyes flash for a second.

Mimi watches in horror as he looks down at the glass, studying it calmly. He doesn't give it back.

"Expensive, eh?"

"Very," she just says lamely, letting her arm fall to the side.

Her voice sounds crushed and she hates it, hates all of it, hates _him_.

She's waiting for him to laugh at her, yell at her, _shatter her_ , but Taichi just stands there. Looking out into the distance like she did earlier. He seems lost in thought, and then, after a heartbeat, he steps close to the balustrade again before leaning down on his forearms. He's still holding her glass.

She should leave. She should just leave and go join Palmon and the others inside.

She stays.

Defeated, Mimi resumes her own position at the railing, looking for another paper lantern to hang her gaze on.

Taichi turns his head her way; the movement draws her eyes, and she watches, befuddled, as he gives her a small smile.

"You look stunning, by the way." He's entirely sincere. "Green has always been your colour."

"...thanks."

She is not blushing. She absolutely refuses to blush.

_Blue has always been yours._

"You don't look too bad, either," she concedes after a moment.

He looks _prohibitively attractive_ , but she sure as heck isn't going to tell him so. He knows anyway.

Taichi shrugs, smiling. "What can I say, I clean up well when I want to."

It's the understatement of the year.

The three-piece suit he's wearing is a deep, vibrant blue, his dress shirt pressed and whiter than her teeth, the collar starched, and she can tell that all of it is bespoke. She has agonized _all day_ over that suit and the way he looks in it. To say he cleans up well really doesn't cut it.

_This is ridiculous._

Why are they even having this conversation? She thought the worst part of the day was already behind her. (The part when she not only had to be in some of Sora and Yamato's more scenic wedding photos with him, but when the photographer also insisted the maid of honor and the groom's best man had to have at least two or three pictures on their own. The part when they both then had carefully avoided looking at each other or getting too close for comfort in aforementioned pictures, and _yes_ , his hand on her back and hers on his arm had stretched that comfort thinner than she thought possible.)

Apparently not. Apparently, the day had decided to save the worst for last. Of course.

He tilts his head. "What, no comeback to that?"

_There is no fucking coming back from that, you dick._

"Facts are facts," she shrugs. "You know you're handsome, you don't need me to contradict it. Or confirm it."

Inwardly, she kicks herself. (Why, _why the fuck_ has she just said that?)

Taichi gives her one of his trademark bright smiles — the kind that's so radiant that it could light up the night sky by itself — and suddenly, her mouth goes dry and her legs feel weak. She has to avert her eyes.

Taichi has always been bright, in every sense of the word.

It's fitting, his Crest of Courage as an image of the sun. He's the pivotal point of their circle, the leader of their makeshift family. The sun of their own little solar system. Each one of them has an integral part to play, a role to fulfill, but he's the one who pulls them all together. Without him, the whole would collapse.

They orbit him.

He burns for them.

Mimi owes him more than she can ever express gratitude for.

The very fact that she even developped an interest in her field of work is all on him as well. Feeding Taichi just became a hobby of hers when she got back from the States.

She made chocolate fudge raspberry brownies for his birthday just a month after her return, and he wouldn't shut up about how much he loved them. And because Mimi loves compliments, and because Yuuko (who is otherwise a wonderful woman and mother) cannot cook to save her life, and because _someone_ had to feed this boy and it couldn't always be Koushiro's mum, Mimi took it upon herself to be that someone.

She baked. She cooked. She fried. She started putting together a binder full of magazine clippings, print-outs and copies from other people's cookbooks. It never mattered to Taichi whether it was traditional Japanese food or some calory-dense American delicacy that made any sane person's cholesterol levels tremble just from looking at it — he wolfed it all down and loved it, and she, in turn, loved _him_ for that.

And after all, he _needed_ the calories. That athletic build and those insane thighs he got from soccer had to run on _something_.

It's not a good idea, thinking about his calory intake and his thighs, because it just draws her attention back to the present. More specifically, to the way he fills out his suit. And, even more specifically, that waistcoat. And the dress shirt underneath said waistcoat. (Waistcoats should be banned, she thinks. They are a public safety hazard because they are _way_ too distracting.)

He has become broader during the years, overall. Her eyes linger on the way the fabric of his sleeves is stretched taut over his biceps, his shoulders, how it moves with every minuscule adjustment of his muscles as he rolls her glass between his hands. (She's not sure how he finds the time to work out, because his schedule must be crammed full to bursting these days.)

She isn't even subtle about looking him over (' _ogling_ ' might be the more appropriate term, a voice in her head pipes up), and Mimi knows it. He's making a good show of not acknowledging it, though, and she's so very grateful that he doesn't go picking at her dignity again.

He takes another long sip of her non-vodka while staring off into the distance; the glass clinks on the concrete of the railing when he sets it down.

"Excellent stuff," Taichi says, and she just nods gravely.

"Told you."

The ensuing silence between them grows heavier with every second that it stretches, until it's practically weighing down the very air around them.

She almost jumps when he straightens, but he just casually and unhurriedly starts to unbutton his cuffs.

Mimi stares at his wrists.

Cufflinks.

He's wearing cufflinks, small golden cufflinks, and she doesn't comprehend why that fact has escaped her before.

From a distance, they look like an abstract design of a star, but she knows that up close, it's, in fact, a sun. And not just any sun. It's his _Crest_ , and Mimi knows it because she's the one who gave them to him years ago. She doesn't really want to remember that, though, because it makes her think of the way the morning light was refracted by the Christmas baubles and how the green, plush carpet felt under her bare skin when Taichi put his mouth between her thighs.

Her insides _coil_ at the memory.

She wonders whether he has come out here just to torture her, to rub salt into her wounds the way he once rubbed oil into her skin when they—

 _Oh gosh, no_ , she can't think of all that, not now, not with him so close, so painfully close.

_Get a grip._

He shoves the cufflinks into his pockets and, still so _casually_ , rolls up his sleeves, one after the other.

It's unfair.

It's all kinds of unfair and fucked up, because rolled-up sleeves are the bane of her existence and work like an instant trigger on her primitive parts, both the ones in her brain and the ones between her legs. It's _not fucking fair_ because he knows. Mimi wishes he would just go away and bother someone else, but she doesn't have it in her to tell him so.

Her gaze is still glued to his left forearm when he turns around to face her.

"You're not being very subtle, Mimi."

She finally looks up at his face and wants to strangle him for the barely-suppressed delight in his voice and the smile that dimples the corners of his mouth.

"Neither are you."

 _There_ it is. She's glad to find some of her usual fire in her tone, even if she isn't really feeling it tonight.

Taichi isn't contradicting her; just looking at her with a tranquility that Mimi finds _utterly_ unsettling and intriguing at the same time. Those deep, brown eyes travel from her face down the column of her neck, over her clavicle, her bare shoulders, and, just briefly—

She's unable to stop from shivering, and Mimi is fairly sure he doesn't miss it. She crosses her arms over her chest.

"You're cold."

It's not a question, it's a statement, and yeah, maybe she is, just a little, even though she notices only now that he's mentioning it and she's paying attention to the goosebumps on her skin. (Are those really from the temperature, though?)

Before she can come up with an answer, Taichi has already plucked his jacket off the balustrade, taken three steps towards her and draped it over her shoulders.

_Oh no._

That is not a good development at all.

Because he's _way_ too close, and he smells _way_ too good, and that jacket carries _way too much_ of his scent (her nostrils are full of it, _oh gosh_ ), and his hands are lingering on her shoulders and that really _just won't do_.

_Please, leave._

"Thank you."

That's not what she meant to say at all. Apparently, her vocal cords have turned on her.

"You're welcome."

His voice is _so soft_ and _so warm_ all of a sudden, and that jacket is so dangerously comfortable, and this close she can _feel_ the heat radiating off him.

Taichi is never cold. It's one of the things she's always fancied about him. (Sadly, there are still _a lot_ of things she fancies about him.)

He looks at her, he just _looks_ at her, so intently, and Mimi doesn't even mean to part her lips as if she's about to say something or do something or expect something, and suddenly, the air shifts and—

" _Fuck._ "

Taichi huffs and takes a step back, and his hands have left her shoulders. One is at his hip, fingers digging into fabric, the other he runs through his hair about five times in a row as if it could help him get a grip. He only musses it up that way, and it makes him look a little like in earlier times.

Her heart is beating like a drum.

He looks at her, eyes wild, burning right through her.

"Gosh, Mimi, we can't keep doing this." He sounds pained. "I'm gonna go insane if I have to keep playing this game."

Mimi's gaze zeroes in on her shoes.

He's breaching exactly the kind of topic she was afraid of.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbles.

_Lie._

He barks a grim, humorless laugh.

"Oh, you don't? Are you planning on keeping this up for the rest of our lives whenever we see each other?" He makes a sweeping gesture with his arms that is half a shrug. "Playing this little game? Because I can't fucking handle that. I _can't_ , Mimi," he spits. "I can't act like everything's fine and dandy between us."

She raises her head again to glare at him.

"Yeah, this sure feels like everything's just wonderful." The sarcasm in her voice is so thick, she's surprised she doesn't choke on it. " _Anyone_ could mistake us for best friends, that's how well we're acting."

Taichi's face is stony.

"Please, do tell, how do you suggest we behave? Enlighten me, Taichi."

For a moment, he's silent. His jaw is working in that way she has, much to her present dismay, always found disturbingly sexy.

"I don't know," he finally admits. "I honestly don't know, but it can't go on like this." The lines in his face soften a fraction. "I know you're trying just as hard as I am to keep it civil, at least for others' sake if not for our own, but look at us." He shakes his head. "We're failing miserably."

Mimi squares her jaw. She can't really argue that, and it makes her antsy.

"But we're still part of the same group and that isn't gonna change." He exhales a sigh. "We need to... we need to find a way to be around each other, Mimi." Taichi looks suddenly determined. "Without either of us losing a limb or seething at one another. Or suffocating our friends and family with the mere tension in the air."

He gives her a hesitant smile.

She tries to, she wants _very much_ to answer it, but it's like she's lost control of her facial features for the time being.

He's right. Mimi knows he's right because she has had these thoughts herself already more than once. The crux of the matter is, however, that she also hasn't found a viable solution so far. It pains her to admit it to herself so openly, but still wanting Taichi and knowing it's not an option is bound to make her ill-tempered and crabby around him.

She doesn't know how else to act, with all those emotions still clawing at her ribcage.

She doesn't know how to be mature about this and be a friend to him.

She also doesn't even know how to tell him that, so she swallows it down and just nods.

Silence blankets them again while the air charges up under the tension of their eyes on each other.

Except it isn't really _silent_.

All that white noise from the party inside pulses in the background, and someone must have turned the volume of the hi-fi system up a notch, because Mimi can very clearly make out the opening notes of a certain REO Speedwagon song.

_Please, not that one..._

Intuition tells her that Taichi himself chose this one for tonight's playlist, and a tiny part of her starts wondering whether it's possible that he has orchestrated all of this so minutely. Everything seems entirely too coincidental. Logic reasons that it's probably just her rotten luck, though.

Mimi shifts uneasily.

She should be in there watching Sora and Yamato be ridiculously in love with each other. Why is she still out here? Why hasn't she left yet?

Taichi looks to the side for a moment, past the glass doors, past the curtains that seem to shield the both of them from the rest of the world for now, and then back at her. His brow is furrowed the way it always is when he's thinking about something important, and his eyes are equal parts pained and... something else. (Hopeful?)

"Dance with me."

Her breath hitches.

She can't believe he just dropped a request like that on her plate, but he has.

He's insane.

"You can't be serious," she whispers.

"I am." His smile is self-deprecating. "Dance with me."

He steps closer to her and holds up his hand.

Mimi stares at it.

Then back at him.

" _Please._ " His voice drops down to a whisper. "For old times' sake?"

His scent is still wafting around her, and his eyes are imploring her. Under their weight, Mimi finds her resolve crumbling.

She hesitates a long moment before she reaches out and accepts his offer.

Taichi's fingers curl around her hand immediately, and he pulls her in without so much as blinking twice. His other hand finds the small of her back the second hers comes to rest on his shoulder.

And then they move.

It's not much of a dance; more like a rhythmic swaying and twirling. Everything about it is painfully awkward and achingly familiar, and their eyes are locked onto each other.

Mimi is trying to read him, but guessing what is going on in his head is nearly impossible because nothing reflects on his face. His expression is guarded and carefully neutral now, but there's a taste of _something_ underneath that causes her heartbeat to pick up. Or maybe that's just due to the fact that the proximity and the smell of him are making her a little dizzy. Perhaps the emotional stress and the rollercoaster that this day has been are finally taking its toll on her.

She has no idea what time it is.

Maybe... maybe it has stopped to allow him and her this moment, for better or worse. Maybe it has ceased existing altogether in this place, this little island framed by plants and concrete and glass doors and curtains. All just for the two of them to steal a couple minutes to come together like this, before they go back to their own narratives and diverging paths.

They just hover there, swaying softly in the rhythm, and Mimi is so lulled that she thinks nothing of it when he leans his head down a bit, and—

She can't breathe.

_Taichi._

His lips are on her neck and _she can't breathe_.

In her belly, heat blooms and spreads.

"Taichi." His name rolls off her tongue as a heavy weight, but it sounds like a fragile thing. "Taichi, what..?"

His only answer is a deep rumble that vibrates right against her skin.

She almost moans. Almost.

She's seeing stars now, and not because she's hallucinating, but because her head has fallen back on instinct to bare more of her throat. The lights above her seem to be pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

Mimi struggles to understand what's going on — _everything is hazy_ — because this cannot be happening. Her brain tries to make sense of it and fumbles for an answer, coming up empty.

_This isn't real._

It can't be.

Taichi whispers her name into her skin and holds her tighter, lips dragging down along the column of her neck. She doesn't stop him because there's no ounce of willpower left in her body to do so.

The heat in her belly bubbles happily.

_Taichi..._

Suddenly, the music changes.

And with it, everything.

The weight of what is happening comes crashing down on Mimi like an ice-cold wave, and dread and panic and confusion shoot up her spine, lending her the power to shove him away. It's so abrupt and forceful, they both tumble and nearly lose their balance.

"What are you—" She's gasping for air and her eyes are wide. "What _the fuck_ do you think you're doing?!"

Her voice isn't loud enough to be heard inside and draw attention (at least she hopes), but shrill and stricken nonetheless.

Taichi is gaping at her with an expression she can't even begin to decipher; as if he himself is taken aback by his actions. He opens his mouth, hesitates, closes it. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Mimi nearly flinches because of where those lips just were half a minute ago.

"I'm..." He shakes his head, arms hanging uselessly at his sides.

"An asshole," she spits at him and watches his jaw twitch. "You're an asshole."

She hates him.

She wants _so badly_ to hate him.

Angry tears burn in the corners of her eyes, but she holds them back.

"First you say you're tired of playing games, and then you go and do just that?" Her fingers dig into the fabric of his jacket, which is still hanging off her shoulders. "Is this all just a sick little joke to you? I've been holding on _all fucking day_ , trying to make it through, trying to swallow every potential argument, ignoring that things are _terrible_ between us, just so Sora and Yamato will have the wedding they deserve without the two of us going at each other's throats!"

Her choice of words is unintentional, and she notices the double entendre too late, shocked for a second. Then she sets her jaw again.

"I'm _tired_ , Taichi, I'm fucking tired and I want to go home and at best not see your face ever again."

He looks at her as if she just stabbed him with a searing hot knife. As if she ground his heart under her heel.

She's never seen him like this, and something inside her breaks.

"We tried being together and it doesn't work. And we're obviously even worse at _not_ being together." There's a big, fat lump in her throat that threatens to suffocate her. She wants nothing more than fling herself into his arms and cry, and it takes every last scrap of control to not do just that. "I know we can't completely avoid each other because, as you said, we're still part of the same group, but this, right now, was just unnecessary. I can't pretend I'm immune to you, but that doesn't mean you can get away with being cruel to gratify your ego."

His face twists in agitation. "I never—"

" _Save it!_ "

Her whole body is shaking; she feels so utterly betrayed.

"I think it's best if we just try to steer clear of each other from now on."

" _Mimi_ —"

"Goodbye, Taichi."

She turns on her heel and bolts for the doors, because nothing good will come of it if she stays to listen to him. She has to leave because her heart just broke all over again, and she didn't think that was even possible. She has to run if she wants even the slimmest chance at forgetting him eventually. (She doesn't even notice that she's still clinging to his jacket.)

Except Taichi doesn't let her.

She hasn't even gotten four steps far when his hand snatches her wrist and he pulls her back, slamming her right into his chest, and his other arm wraps around her waist, trapping her free arm against her own body.

"Let me go!"

She tries to pull out of his hold somehow. Futile.

"No." His voice is dark and firm and his gaze laden with determination.

"Taichi, _let_ — _me_ — _go!_ "

She snarls and struggles, but it's no use. She's about as strong as a hummingbird compared to him when he holds her in such a vice grip. Laughable.

His body burns like a furnace against hers, even through the clothing.

"I'll let you go after you listen to me."

Mimi kicks at him.

He releases an unnerved huff and _lifts_ her without even rearranging his grip on her, walks them over to the balustrade once more — her feet are dangling and this is _humiliating_ and the anger in her stomach should not, absolutely _not_ , shift into something else — and presses her against it. Then he somehow traps her legs between his and hooks one calf around her knees for good measure.

He has effectively immobilized her.

The way their bodies are intertwined must look entirely ridiculous and is maybe even defying the laws of physics, and she prays, she _prays_ that noone will find them like this, or they will have a lot of explaining to do.

"I _hate_ you," she hisses.

"Not as much as I hate myself."

Taichi sounds as if he means it, and it stuns her into silence.

While his brown eyes map her face, Mimi tries to control her breathing, and the rest of herself. She may be unable to move, but she's not unable to _react_ , and her body is reacting _very much_ right now.

He's too close. Much too close for comfort.

Her skin is aflame where he touches it, and the way he presses his weight into her to keep her put is altogether too pleasant.

He smells _so good_.

"Are you going to listen now?" He's looking at her expectantly.

"Do I have a choice?" She makes a blasé wave with her hand, the one that he's still gripping at the wrist, for emphasis. His eyes narrow at the sarcasm in her tone. " _Please_ , go right ahead, Taichi, whatever you want, you—"

"I want you _back_ , Mimi."

Silence.

Stunned, heated silence.

Whatever she expected him to say, that wasn't it.

Not at all.

Her head is spinning.

"...what?"

The pressure around her wrist eases a bit while the pressure around her heart increases tenfold.

"You heard me," he says softly. "I want you back."

Mimi feels the way his chest contracts and expands as he breathes, deeply, in and out.

The sensation anchors her into reality, because it would be easy, _very_ easy, to mistake all this for a fever dream or a hallucination, or the influence of too much alcohol (except she didn't drink that much), or the signs of a head trauma (except there was no car crash or open kitchen cabinet door that could account for it).

No, he's right here, _right here_ , saying this.

And it makes no sense.

"You're messing with me again." Is that her voice? It sounds too small.

She observes the muscles in his neck and how his Adam's apple bobs a little, because there is no way she can meet his eyes.

"I'm not," he stresses. "I mean it."

"...how?" It's just too much for her to comprehend. "How can you say that when you know—"

"Mimi, look at me."

She doesn't.

It might just break whatever spell they've been caught under.

"You're really not making this easy, are you..."

He releases her wrist and cups her chin, tilting it upwards with a tenderness that makes her tremble, until she can't refuse him anymore.

She feels naked under his gaze, truly vulnerable for the first time in years.

He looks taken aback by her expression.

"Gosh, Mimi, why are you so scared?" He shakes his head. "I'm not gonna eat you, you know."

It takes a fraction of a second before they both notice the innuendo.

Mimi blushes furiously, and even Taichi's cheeks redden, and she _swears_ she can feel him twitch against her belly.

"Well..." A smirk sneaks onto his lips. "Not right now, anyway."

This is the craziest day of her life, without question.

"Taichi, _please_ , could you not—"

"Okay, I'm sorry, but hush. Please."

Her chin is still cradled in his hand and her body still (comfortably) caged by his own.

So Mimi hushes.

"I want you back," he repeats once more. "It's been almost two years now, and every day I just miss you more. I'm fucking miserable without you, Mimi."

Her throat shrinks. "You were miserable _with_ me, too."

Taichi shakes his head. "But not the whole time. You make it sound like we were fighting twenty-four-seven." His eyes are impossibly soft. "We had good times. A lot of them." He looks distant for a second, and she wonders which memories he's recalling. "And I want to try again."

She doesn't even dare to tell him how badly she wants that, too. How badly she wants _him_. It feels surreal. So she tries for reason instead.

"Taichi, we broke up so many times and got back together. And we could never make it last. What makes you think this time would be different?"

"I don't know about you, but I've done a ton of reflective thinking in the past two years. I'm not quite the same person anymore, and neither are you," he insists.

"Yes, but we were slightly different people _every time_ , Taichi." It hurts to touch on all of this again, especially with him right there. "Because we kept growing up along the way. And it still didn't work."

"Maybe so," he admits. "But maybe this time, we've finally reached a level where it does."

"Or maybe, we should both just find someone else."

Taichi stares at her as if she slapped him.

Mimi swallows.

"We shouldn't... we... we can't stay hung up on each other like this forever." Forcing the words out into the open feels like carving her own heart out.

It's pathetic, but there's nothing she wants more than, indeed, be hung up on him forever. She's already doing a spectacular job of it. But there's only so much her heart and soul can take, and she knows she won't make it through yet another breakup with her sanity intact. Some part of her will die if they do this dance all over again with the same result.

Taichi's jaw tics.

"Mimi... how do I put this? I don't think you truly understand what I'm saying. I don't _want_ to find someone else. I want _you_ ," he repeats. "You. Only you. Noone, absolutely _noone_ else. And the mere thought of you being with anyone other than me is agonizing. I'm not joking."

A dull ache tugs at her sternum at his words.

"If you can say in all honesty that you don't want me, I'll back off. But if this is about you questioning my willingness to commit, then you need to understand how serious I am." His nostrils flare, and somehow, she doesn't doubt him for a second. "I'll chase you until you come back to me, if that's what you want. I'll even beg. I've been very close, in the past six months, and more than a couple times—" He swallows thickly. "I've been very, _very_ close to showing up on your doorstep and begging on my knees for you to take me back, so it's not that much of a stretch. I'm not exaggerating. You can ask Hikari."

Taichi leans his full weight into her even more, and Mimi feels like she's suffocating, but not from the physical pressure.

"I can't, I absolutely _cannot let you go_ if there's even the tiniest chance that you want this just as much and that we could really be happy together. And I don't wanna be dramatic, but I don't think I can live without you." He gives a short, sad laugh. "I've been thinking about you every single day ever since we kissed for the first time, Mimi. And I don't plan on stopping. Because I can't. Believe me, I've tried."

It really takes her a moment to wrap her head around what he has just said, because there's a lot of "every single day" between their first kiss and this very moment.

There are at least four break-ups between them which fall into that timespan, not even counting the various inofficial ones, and many, many fights, and a lot of women, and some men, and Catherine, and—

"You're wired into my brain. Into my very existence. I wake up, I think of you. I go to bed, I think of you. I see a pretty dress or a piece of nice jewelry or just a fucking _flower_ somewhere, I have to rein in the impulse to go buy it for you." Taichi sounds more agitated with every word. "I'm sitting in a boring meeting, I space out and wonder what you're doing. I come home from a rough day into an empty, lonely apartment, I grab my cock to blow off some steam, I remember how you felt and how you moved and how you tasted."

_This is not okay._

_This is not okay at all._

"You shouldn't be telling me these things."

Her voice is abysmally shaky.

"Yes I _should_." There is so much pent-up emotion in his eyes and behind his words, it's hard to bear. "I should have told you these things ages ago, because maybe it would've made a difference." He breathes deeply and licks his lips, obviously struggling with composure. "It's never been smooth, and sooner or later we always argue, and I know we've said so often that we simply don't work out in the end, but I don't believe it. Not anymore. Never, really."

_I won't cry._

_I won't cry._

_I won't_ —

Okay, fuck that, maybe she will cry.

"No matter how often we break up and fight, no matter how badly I want to love someone else, I just keep coming back to you after everything. I can't escape you. You're everywhere. In my mind. In my heart. In my very bones."

Taichi looks lost.

Entirely, utterly _lost_.

"The worlds are safe, my career is going well and my friends are all happy, but it's not enough because something is missing, and that something is you. I have never felt so empty in my life, Mimi."

Fat tears are rolling down her cheeks now, and there's no stopping them.

It's too much, it's all too much, and it's so unexpected, she can't handle it.

She can't handle it because she has wished for this for so long that it feels like a daydream, so she just presses a hand over her mouth, swallows her sobs and let's him go on.

"I know we both had a lot of stuff to battle with, individually, in the past, and that definitely didn't help, but I'm optimistic that the worst of that is behind us and that we're mature enough by now to get this right. That _I'm_ mature enough." He hangs his head a little. "I've been trying so hard to see our relationship from a different angle, to understand where I went wrong and what I should have handled differently. I know I was preoccupied with... ' _major_ ' issues so often in the past that I completely overlooked the little things most of the time. Little things that would probably have been more important to pay attention to. Instead of wrecking my brain over the same old problem for the umpteenth time."

Mimi doesn't have to ask what he's referring to. The older he grew, the more burdened and world-weary he seemed to become underneath the jokes and the sunny disposition. She remembers a day during their late teens, a day on which he was particularly somber and told her, " _I see more and understand less._ " The sentence stuck with her ever since.

Taichi has given up his full-body vice grip on her by now and is brushing her tears away with both his thumbs, palms cupping the sides of her face.

"What I'm saying is that I refuse to let disagreements and fights drive us apart anymore. I want to _make_ this work with you. I'll drag my own ass to therapy, if that'll help. I'll drag _both our asses_ to therapy if necessary." His voice falls down into a whisper. "Just please don't give up on me this time. And I won't give up on you. I want and I need you so much, I can barely put it into words."

 _Except you just did_ , she thinks.

Why can she still not say anything?

Why is she letting him ramble his heart out to her?

Probably because it feels so good, _so good_ , to have him talking to her again, to have him say all these incredible things.

"And if you still want me, too, then please give me another chance. Please... please let's try again." The corners of his eyes are glittering. "Just... _please_. I'll try harder this time. I'll try everything to make this work. _Everything_ , Mimi, if you just—"

He cuts himself off to kiss her so abruptly, so _deeply_ , that it drives the breath from her.

His scent mingles with the salty taste of tears on her tongue.

Tactile memory is a fierce little thing; it's like a door in her mind is thrown open, and light floods a room that was kept dark for too long.

Mimi's body acts entirely on instinct and acquired habit when her hands come up to bury themselves in his hair. It's so much shorter now than in his teen years, much less wild, but still just as soft to the touch. His mouth is just as warm and welcoming. His heartbeat just as strong.

This isn't simply kissing.

This is coming home.

Taichi's hands dig into her backside through the fabric of her dress, and he hoists her up and sits her down on the balustrade. It's the perfect height so neither of them has to crane their neck too much to align their mouths, and that's really everything she needs right now. He steps into the cradle of her legs, and she locks her ankles behind him.

Everything, _everything_ is Taichi.

His jacket still over her shoulders, keeping her warm. His arms around her torso, holding her steady. His body flush against hers, slaking her burning need for physical contact. His lips on hers and his tongue teasing her, making it very, very clear that she is loved and wanted and safe.

The glass doors are still open; a love song fills her ears the way Taichi fills her heart, and Mimi thinks it's all rather befitting.

The world falls away and collapses into just the two of them; everything else in her mind gets pushed to the side. They reconnect in the most primal, intuitive way a pair of lovers can, and remain lost in sensation and in each other for long, long moments.

"Taichi," she murmurs after what feels like an eternity.

Her whole body is pliant and boneless against him.

He hums, but continues to press kiss after kiss into her mouth.

"Taichi... please."

He inhales deeply and finally opens his eyes to look at her. "Yes, princess?" (She hasn't heard that nickname in what seems like forever, and she might just start crying again.) "What is it? What do you need?"

His question makes her blush, but she tries to keep her head clear for a minute.

"Taichi, if I am to say yes to this... to _you_... and I'm not implying that I won't..." She clings to him a little tighter, and the corners of his mouth dimple. "Then I need you to tell me what you want, exactly."

Maybe her request is a little ridiculous.

Okay, maybe a lot.

He just said all these things to her, all these wonderful, wonderful things (and it's not like he didn't already have her at "I want you back", really) which now, after her initial turmoil has settled, make her feel all fuzzy inside.

And still Mimi needs him to spell it out.

Taichi blinks at her, lost in thought, but obviously eager to comply. (His hands are eager, too, but in a slightly different way.)

"I want..."

The syllables hang in the air for a long moment.

"To have you underneath me and be inside you in an hour at the latest."

He grins. Of course.

"To take you on a proper date as soon as possible within the next week. To have you move in with me again in about three months. Or six. Or maybe find a new place together, I don't care. Your call." He shakes his head. "To see you every day. Or at least regularly, if living together is out of the question for now and our schedules clash too much." His voice drops low. "To have you as my girlfriend again. As my mate, my partner." He cups her chin. "And to make sure our wedding is at least six times as pompous and beautiful and just overall better than Sora and Yamato's."

Her first reaction to the latter is giggling, but then what he actually said catches up with her, and her eyes start brimming again.

"I want a future with you, Mimi. _Everything_. I'll take everything you're willing to give me."

Taichi kisses her again — deeply, slowly, with adoration dripping from his every movement — and then softly presses his forehead against hers.

"Mimi, I _love_ you," he whispers, and she didn't know she was holding her breath for him to say it.

"I love you, too."

Her heart threatens to overflow and burst out of her chest.

It may be Sora's wedding, but Mimi is sure that it's the happiest day of _her_ life.

Taichi looks about ready to cry.

This time it's her who leans in and kisses him, pulling him as close as she possibly can. It's all urgent, sloppy smooches, and she makes them sloppier by the second on purpose, littering Taichi's face with them until he laughs and wraps her in his embrace. He tucks her face against his neck.

"So you'll be with me again?"

"Yes," she breathes. "Yes, please."

The noise in his throat is soft and small and warm. "Gosh, you don't know how happy you make me."

He's holding her as if he could soak her into his body if he only holds on _tight_ enough. His face is buried in her hair and she can feel him inhale, feel him drink in her scent like a man parched and desperate for water.

They stay that way for another long while.

Then she feels him clear his throat.

"I mean... imagine, all that effort, the whole declaration, if you'd said no— _ow!_ "

He breaks away and starts rubbing the spot on his arm that Mimi just pinched, looking at her in mock betrayal.

"Don't push it, Yagami." Her eyebrows are raised, but the warning in her voice holds no weight.

Taichi just grins at her in that impossible way of his.

_Impossible not to love._

"Oh, you bet I'll push it," he growls. "Deep inside you." He winks at her, and the little pool of heat in her belly bubbles up once more. "But let's get somewhere more comfortable first."

He holds his hands out to her, and she takes them, sliding off the balustrade to stand up.

Her eyes wander to the open doors, to the curtains. Then heavily back at him.

"You are aware that we still need to go through there to get anywhere else?"

The mere thought of entering the ballroom again and potentially getting caught up in some seemingly important person's need to talk to either of them is unbearable.

Taichi appears equally unwilling to share her attention with anyone else and interlaces his fingers with hers. He looks out into the gardens.

"Well. Not necessarily."

The tone in his voice reminds her distinctively of a time when they roamed the Digital World together. A time when they constantly got themselves into trouble.

Mimi's eyes follow the direction his have taken and then return back to his face. "You cannot be serious."

"I've heard that before."

She gives him a look of disbelief. " _Taichi._ "

He peers down past her and over the railing. "Doesn't seem that far..."

"You're wearing a bespoke suit. And this dress cost half a fortune."

She can't believe he's actually considering this. Taichi seems deceptively innocent and oblivious to the very real danger of breaking his neck.

"Too bad Palmon isn't here right now," he mutters. "I'll go first and catch you, okay?"

Mimi gapes at him.

"You're insane."

"Now she tells me..."

"Taichi, please—"

The words catch in her throat as he lays a finger against her lips.

"Mimi, do you trust me?"

His brow is furrowed in earnest, eyes assertive, voice deep and calm. He looks so attractive, she wants nothing more than kiss him again.

"Yes," she mouthes against his touch. "Yes, of course."

Because how could she not?

He nods. "I'll catch you," he assures her. "Let's have a little adventure, just you and me."

Taichi squeezes her hands, then takes his jacket from her to put it back on, hops onto the balustrade and swings his legs over it.

Mimi can't believe she's agreeing to this.

"Taichi, I don't want you to die. I don't want _me_ to die."

He merely raises an eyebrow at her. "You've been to the Digital World several times. You lived in America for _years_. You survived all that and now you're afraid of a little height?"

Okay, maybe he has a point there, but still.

They just reunited. She can't lose him already.

She grips his arm, desperate now. "Please don't."

He gently removes her hands and kisses them once. "Here goes nothing."

He drops backwards and off the terrace.

" _Taichi!_ "

Her heart is racing and her hands clutch at the concrete of the railing as she leans over it, to see—

Taichi sprawled out on what looks like a thick group of bushes, less than eight feet below her.

_What?_

Mimi strains her eyes.

No, not bushes...

Realization hits her over the head as she recognizes the dark, plush shapes as cushions and beanbags. Cushions and beanbags which she has already seen in daylight earlier and from another point of view, piled up next to a terrace — _this very same one_ — as a cozy little corner for visitors to rest in, and which are a dark green colour that happens to blend in with the surroundings now.

"I told you it's not far."

Taichi has the audacity to grin at her, all upside down at this angle.

Mimi doesn't know whether to laugh, sigh with relief, or yell at him.

She opts for the latter.

"Taichi, _what the flying fuck_ , you gave me a heart attack!"

He laughs that rich laugh of his that she missed so much.

"I'll give you a lot more than that if you finally come down here and run off with me," he offers, propping himself up.

His smile is lazy, easy, seductive, and it makes her insides flutter with excitement.

How could she resist him?

He's her sun, and she's hopelessly caught in his orbit.

With a muttered string of curses (more for show than anything else), Mimi takes off her shoes. The ground is chilly under her bare feet, and she shivers as she climbs onto the balustrade and crouches down on it, pumps tightly clutched in one hand.

She jumps with a startled yelp, right into Taichi's waiting arms, and the cushions topple a bit under their combined weight.

"I've got you," he whispers.

She smiles at him brightly, and the kiss they share feels like a firecracker.

She winds her arms around his neck, and Taichi slides down onto solid ground with her in his lap, then picks her up, bridal-style, when he stands. He kisses her one more time, slowly, before he chuckles.

"And the princess runs off with the knight in shining armor."

Mimi leans her head against his shoulder and peers up at him. "Do you think they'll live happily ever after?"

Taichi's eyes are full of promises.

"Let's find out."

He gingerly puts her down and helps her back into her heels, and together, they stumble through the moonlight, arms wrapped tight around each other, not letting go.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations, you just made it through almost 10,000 words worth of two idiots standing on a terrace, I applaud you!
> 
> For anyone wondering:  
> \- The unspecified love song playing in the background as they smooch is "Wild Love" by James Bay, from whose lyrics I also took the title.  
> \- Yes, **that** song by REO Speedwagon is "Keep On Loving You". Because of course.  
>  \- Also yes, you read the subtle hints correctly, Taichi is bisexual. Fight me.  
>   
> And another thing for all of you currently struggling with romance or a lack thereof in your lives:  
> Please remember that you are already complete. Yes, Taichi and Mimi are pining for each other immensely in this fic and my headcanons, and sure, we shippers love to read about all the emotional drama of two or more people seemingly not being able to live without each other.  
> But, my friends, you actually don't need another person to validate you, to make you happy, to make your life worth living. You're already perfectly capable of doing that on your own. The quality of your life doesn't hinge on significant others. The most important person in your life always will and should be — yourself.  
> So please, love yourself. Love yourself with your entire heart. ♥  
> (In case any of you are in a particularly rough spot at the moment and looking for a sign to not give up on life, on yourself — this is it. Maybe you can't see it right now, but you make the world more beautiful and better just by being part of it.)  
>   
> Thanks for reading, everybody, I hope you enjoyed it! ♥


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